


You Just Gonna Hold it or are You Gonna Do Something

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Communication, F/M, Future, M/M, Mild Smut, Multi, early days of relationship, handjobs, hanging around the barns, referenced blowjobs, y'all this is all i write about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: “So,” Adam prompts, “now that I’ve embarrassed myself, will you tell me? What it is that’s driving you nuts?”“Yeah,” Ronan says, “after we finish showering though, yeah?”Adam groans again, acquiesces.“Hey,” Ronan says, “can I blow you?”“Is this a blowjob to make me feel less like an idiot?” Adam asks.“Yeah,” Ronan says, kisses him, “can I?”“Yeah.”((Pre TRK epilogue) Sorting shit out. )





	You Just Gonna Hold it or are You Gonna Do Something

So the thing was, they sucked at talking. Or, no. No they didn’t suck at talking. They talked all the time; about inane shit, about Indiana Jones vs Han Solo, about their favourite ice cream, yelling nearly affectionate insults at each other down hallways, over the thrum of car engines, across fields.

They talked a lot about everything and nothing, and mostly nothing. 

So like. 

Yeah. They still got  _ deep _ or whatever with each other. You can’t fucking go through the shit they had been through without that.They talked about big shit when they needed to. And they had needed to especially right at the beginning where everything was new and restarting like Gansey’s fucking heart, or whatever. But, one or two, or even three nights of blank honesty, of letting everything out, did not communicators make. Which was fine. It’s not like they were years into this and incapable of fucking talking shit out or whatever. It’d barely been four months. So. Yeah. Whatever. 

 

The thing was.

The fucking thing was. 

Ronan really fucking wanted Adam to be the one to bring this particular topic up, because, he was pretty sure if he tried to he was gonna stumble over it and fuck it up and who the hell knows what else. It’s not even a big deal, except, well, it really fucking is a big deal, and - God. 

 

The thing was, Ronan is possibly, maybe a little, tiny bit terrified about it, which is stupid, and he  _ knows _ that if he talks about it he’ll be fine. 

 

-

 

“You’re doing that thing again,” Adam grunts at him from across the heavy dining room table. 

 

It’s a public holiday, so, without Ronan even needing to ask, Adam had packed up all his fucking books and essays and shit and got into Ronan’s BMW straight after school, and come to stay at the Barns for the long weekend, where he is currently doing his homework, ignoring Ronan’s very talented spoon stacking, and apparently noticing something Ronan is doing that Ronan doesn’t realise he’s doing. Ronan sets the spoons flying with a flick, watches as Adam flinches and then rolls his eyes at the resulting metallic cascade. 

 

“What thing?” Ronan asks once the ringing of spoons on spoons on wooden floor dies out. 

 

Adam rolls his eyes at him again, and then returns his attention back to the books splayed out in front of him. 

 

“The thing where you stare at me,” Adam says, “like you’re about to ask me a question. Except you don’t. It makes me all itchy.” 

 

“Me staring at you makes you itchy?” Ronan asks, grins in the way that Adam tells him is sharklike and goofy all at once. “What, you allergic to being looked at?” 

 

“Allergic to waiting on a question that never comes,” Adam says, “allergic to dumbasses.” 

 

“I was gonna ask what you want for dinner,” Ronan says, “but if you’re allergic to dumbasses I better not cook in case I set your allergies off.” 

 

“Shithead,” Adam snorts, “pasta bake.” 

 

“You gonna cook it?” Ronan asks, pushes his chair back with a screech to stand so he can begin gathering the spoons. 

 

“I will if you want,” Adam tells his books, which is Adam for, I know you’re going to cook but I’m gonna get in some good bf points here. 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says, stacks spoons in his left hand, picks them up with his right, “you’ll waste all your precious study time and then you’ll whine about it all weekend.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says. 

 

Ronan goes out. He has cows to prod. Mud to get over his boots. 

 

-

 

Ronan is good at pasta bake. He’s not sure if Adam asks for it because he knows Ronan is good at it, or if he asks for it because he likes it and it’s pure chance that Ronan is good at it, but either way means that as soon as the dish comes out of the oven Adam always sits up a little straighter, starts clearing his books away, kisses Ronan when he comes close. 

 

“What do you wanna do this weekend?” Ronan asks through a mouthful of pasta. 

 

Adam is currently engaging in a water drinking contest with Opal and does not answer immediately. Ronan has no fucking clue why Adam always says yes to this, if the objective of the competition is to be the one who finishes their glass of water first, it’s probably best not to compete against a creature who possibly doesn’t have organs, and has proven time and time again that they can down a full glass in two gulps. Adam loses the contest, and then turns to Ronan, wiping water off of his chin. 

 

“I don’t mind,” he says unhelpfully, digs his fork into his food, “I finished the essay on particles already, so the only other thing I gotta do this weekend is the maths practice test, and the Latin vocab. Thought maybe you could help me with that tomorrow arvo or something.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says. 

 

“Adam,” Opal demands, she’s standing up on her chair, “try again.” 

 

“Hooves off the wood, brat,” Ronan says. 

 

-

 

When he stays overnight, Adam usually takes Declan’s room, which is probably something Ronan ought to bring up before he brings up anything and everything else. It’s a bit ridiculous, honestly, because when Ronan stays at Adam’s it’s not like there’s anywhere else for him to sleep, so they sleep in the same bed there. 

Anyway, this means that they’ve gotta do the thing where they either say goodnight in the hallway - if Adam’s tired - or the thing where they make out (in Ronan’s room because there is no way in hell he’s making out in his older brother’s bed even if said bed contains his boyfriend), and then Adam leaves. Ronan is not really a fan of either of these. 

 

“You’re doing it again,” Adam says, basically into Ronan’s mouth mid kiss. 

 

Ronan tugs his head away, a little irritated, presses his hands to Adam’s shoulders, and stares at him. 

 

“My eyes were fucking closed,” he points out, “and my mouth was fucking occupied. How the hell could I have been doing that thing again.” 

 

“I could hear you thinking,” Adam says, not at all put of by Ronan’s prickly irritation, dips down to kiss Ronan again, “it was very loud.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groans, “what the fuck was I thinking, then?” 

 

“Um,” Adam says detours from the conversation to stick his tongue into Ronan’s mouth in a very decidedly unsexy way. 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says through overly theatrical gagging, “you’re not fucking cute, Parrish,” he adds on, shoving Adam so he teeters on the edge of the bed. Adam grabs onto his arm, levers himself back to safety, grinning all the while. 

 

“What am I thinking then,” Ronan repeats, “that was so important you had to stop and be a dick in the middle of our fucking goodnight kiss?” 

 

“I don’t think it counts as a goodnight kiss if it’s actually a make out session,” Adam points out. Ronan shoves him again. Adam grips at him harder so as not to fall. “I dunno,” Adam says, climbs his way back up to Ronan climbs into his lap, “it’s just -” he starts, shakes his head, “-pretty sure you were just wondering if I could smell your fart or not.” 

 

“God,” Ronan groans, “you know some people think you’re the fucking sensible one in this relationship?” 

 

“I am,” Adam protests, “we gonna keep saying goodnight, or what?” 

 

“Or what,” Ronan threatens, but leans in and up to continue the kissing. 

 

-

 

After Adam’s actually kissed him goodnight and left, Ronan spends a good half hour on the cusp of sleep, and then he rolls over into a cold patch of his bed and he’s suddenly very extremely awake and uncomfortable and grouchy and chilly and things suck ass.

 

He spends the next hour trying to roll back into the position he had been in before because he had been so close to being asleep before his brain ruined it all. Then he’s rolled around too much and all his blankets and sheets are rumpled and untucked and it’s too loose and he’s too adrift and parts of the bed are far too warm and parts are somehow still icy cold, and GOD. 

 

So long as he’s not making out in Declan’s bed it probably won’t feel weird, and honestly, Parrish, what the fuck is the point in sleeping over here if they’re not even gonna make use of being together. Unless of course Adam is only with him for the comfy mattresses, in which case, whatever. 

 

-

 

“Ronan?” Adam mumbles when Ronan pushes the bedroom door open, as if he’s expecting someone else. Like Opal, or the boogeyman or whatever. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says sharply, closes the door again behind him and makes his way with touch through the dark to the edge of Adam’s bed. Adam’s hand meets him there, brushing up against the top of his thigh and then climbing to hook around his waist. 

 

“What’s up?” Adam asks, rubs his thumb in loose circles in against Ronan’s skin. 

 

“Can’t sleep,” Ronan says, “wanna make a bonfire?” 

 

“Uh,” Adam says. Ronan can see the glint of the whites of his eyes as Adam finally opens his eyes to look up at him. “A bonfire?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “you know, a fucking load of shit lit on fire. Smoke in your eyes. Burnt marshmallows. Stopping Opal from eating wood on fire.” 

 

“Tempting,” Adam says. The glint is gone, his eyes are closed again, “do you have a stash of shit to burn readily available?” 

 

“There’s always shit to burn if you look,” Ronan says. 

 

“What kind of shit?” Adam asks, and honestly, he doesn’t even sound like he’s trying to talk about bonfires anymore. 

 

“Dumb shit,” Ronan offers, lifts his hand to loop around Adam’s wrist, squeezes until he finds Adam’s pulse, “can I sleep here?” 

 

“Thought you couldn’t sleep?” 

 

“I can’t,” Ronan snaps. 

 

“Ok,” Adam relents. He draws his hand back, tugs the blankets down, “get in.” 

 

Ronan gets in. Presses all up along Adam, digs his toes into Adam’s bony ankles, hooks his chin over the jut of Adam’s shoulder, notches his fingers in divots of rib and muscle on Adam’s side. 

 

“God,” Adam grumbles, “is this it? Are we finally mutating to become one hellish beast? Am I gonna wake up and find that you’ve absorbed me into your body, Lynch?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, very muffled, “if you want me to get off fucking tell me.” 

 

“I don’t want you to get off,” Adam says, “I do want you to stop trying to dislocate my feet from my ankles though, like, shit, your toes are pointy.” 

 

Ronan presses his toes in a little harder until Adam jabs him in the side, and then relents, shifting to slot his legs in between and on top of Adam’s instead. This has the added side effect of every move translating into a vague grind of thigh on thigh on dick, and Adam goes from vaguely pissed off to vaguely interested in three small movements. 

 

“If you wanted to fucking get off you could have just started with that,” Adam says dryly, rubs his hand firmly down Ronan’s side, “you could’ve just said, ‘hey I can’t sleep give me a handjob.’ Things would have progressed a lot faster.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan groans, is annoyed he can’t be properly annoyed because, yeah, he can’t help that his dick gets hard as soon as it's in close proximity with Adam’s. “That’s not what I wanted - anyway - God, I’m not doing this shit with you in my  _ brother’s _ bed, Parrish, you sicko.” 

 

“You’re the one with a hard on,” Adam points out. 

 

“We both have hard ons,” Ronan retorts caustically, “stop fucking grinding up on me, Parrish, I refuse to orgasm in this bed.” 

 

“We could go to your bed instead,” Adam suggests, which isn’t actually what Ronan had been implying, but quite honestly, that was a better idea than staying here and sleeping the erections off. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “we could. You know,” he adds on, because there’s enough blood gone from his head that he’s ok with saying things that might lead on to scarier questions. “You could’ve just stayed in my bed in the first place.” 

 

“Yeah?” Adam asks. 

 

“What the fuck do you mean,  _ yeah _ ?” Ronan snaps back. 

 

Adam scoffs a little. “I mean,” he says, “how the fuck am I meant to know that if you don’t tell me?” 

 

“I just did,” Ronan says. 

 

“Before,” Adam says, “you can’t blame me for not being in your bed if you don’t tell me you want me in it.” 

 

“Oh come on,” Ronan says, “it’s obvious I want you in it. Like hell I want you in Declan’s bed. Like, what goes through your mind? Why the hell would I actually want you to get out of my bed and go sleep in here?” 

 

“I dunno,” Adam says, “childhood sanctity, I don’t know. Are we gonna go to your bed or not?” 

 

“Fuck yeah we are,” Ronan says, sits up quickly, “and you’re fucking invited to stay. Like, every night.”

 

“Ok,” Adam says, lets Ronan pull him out of the bed, out of the room, down the hallway, down onto Ronan’s bed which is suddenly nowhere near as uncomfortable as it had been when Ronan had left it. 

 

“Just a quickie,” Adam mumbles as Ronan climbs onto the bed over him, “I’m really tired, so like -”

 

“God you’re so romantic,” Ronan sneers, bites a quick kiss into Adam’s neck, reaches down their bodies to tug at the drawstring of Adam’s pj pants, “can I give you a fucking handjob?” 

 

“I dunno,” Adam retorts, “can you?” 

 

“Fuck you,” Ronan says very clearly, tugs Adam’s dick up out of his pants, “you’re lucky I fucking like you or I’d’ve just tossed you out of the bed already.” 

 

“Ok, Lynch,” Adam says, he’s pressing himself up into Ronan’s hand, “are you just gonna hold it or are you gonna do something with it?” 

 

“Rude,” Ronan says, bends awkwardly and spits at Adam’s dick. Adam groans his disapproval. “Oh,” Ronan says, “I missed.” 

 

“You are such an ass,” Adam sighs as Ronan wipes his spit off Adam’s stomach onto his fingers, “look, here,” Adam mumbles, reaches down to take Ronan’s hand and yanks it up to his mouth to draw his fingers in on his tongue. 

 

Once Ronan’s fingers are both wet enough and (anatomically incorrectly) turned on, he pulls his hand away, wraps his saliva slippery fingers around Adam’s dick and tugs at foreskin with his thumb before he starts pumping, slow and steady at first to spread the spit a little, and then speeding up quickly before Adam can start complaining about how he specified a quickie. 

 

“God,” Adam groans, hips bucking up against Ronan, hands reaching for Ronan’s face, “Ro,” he says, more of a gasp than anything. 

 

Ronan lets him tug his face down to his, opens his mouth against Adam’s, not for kissing because it’s fucking late, and this is a fucking quickies, and Adam is too far gone for kissing right now because all he can do is gasp into Ronan’s mouth. 

 

Sometimes Ronan will pull back here and slow down again so Adam is fucking riding this wave all the way in before he crashes down, likes to hold Adam twitching against him in a slow prolonged orgasm that’s more a ripple than a splash. 

 

But, quickie, so whatever. Adam finishes with a muffled swear against Ronan’s lips and teeth, and Ronan jerks him off a little more through it until Adam swears against and reaches down to bat Ronan’s hand away. 

 

“You can be louder, y’know,” Ronan teases as he sits up properly, reaching away from Adam to grab the tissues on his bedside table to wipe his hand, “if it wasn’t for the fucking spunk on my hand I’d barely know you came.” 

 

“Don’t be a jerk,” Adam yawns, reaches languidly for the waistband of Ronan’s pants while he talks, “you want me to suck you off?” 

 

Almost always. 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says, “you’re so fucking tired you’d probably yawn half way through and choke or something.” 

 

“Handjob it is,” Adam says, “come lie down with me I wanna kiss you.” 

 

“Gay,” Ronan says. Adam flicks his cheek. Ronan climbs further onto the bed and they rearrange themselves, Adam with his hand down Ronan’s pants, Ronan with his leg hooked over Adam’s hip. 

 

This time Adam sucks his own fingers into his mouth, and Ronan is both disappointed and very turned on. Disappointed because he fucking loves Adam’s hands, his fingers, definitely loves them in his mouth. Turned on because a close second to Adam’s hands is Adam’s mouth, and the two of them together is fucking brutal. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says softly as he rubs his thumb over the head of Ronan’s cock, making Ronan breathe out hard, a little more vocal than he had intended. “Yeah, babe.” 

 

Funny thing. Adam’s far mouthier in bed when he’s giving. 

 

Funny thing. Ronan’s a little too loud in bed when he’s getting. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan hisses as Adam tugs at him firmly, “fuck,” he reiterates as Adam presses his in close, sucks a hard kiss at the base of Ronan’s throat, “fuck,” he says as Adam squeezes his other hand in between the two of them as well. 

 

“Yeah?” Adam asks, not actually a question, “Yeah, Ro? You good?” Again, not actually a question. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan gets out, can’t stop his hips from jerking anymore than he can stop his mouth from blurting out profanities, “holy shit - fuck - Adam.”

 

“You close?” Adam asks, mouths up the edge of Ronan’s jaw, “God you’re so hot, babe-” 

 

Well. If Adam expected him to last any longer he would have been disappointed. They don’t pull away immediately. Adam kisses him through the shudders of the orgasm, kisses him until Ronan can kiss him back properly, can breathe properly. Then Adam rolls over and up to reach over Ronan for the tissues, wipes his hand down, grabs a few more tissues and, very matter of factly wipes the both of their dicks down. 

 

“Ugh,” Ronan groans, far too over sensitive currently for the quick dabbing of tissue, “God. Stop.” 

 

“Just making sure we don’t end up in grossest teenagers daily,” Adam says, chucks the tissues in the direction of Ronan’s bin, “sleeping now?” 

 

“Fuck yes sleeping now,” Ronan replies, “you’re staying, yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, “my bed’ll be all cold now anyway.” 

 

“Good,” Ronan says, “thanks. Goodnight.” 

 

“Night, babe.” 

 

-

 

A very handy part of sleeping together, which they had already discovered due to sharing Adam’s small bed at St Agnes, is that if you wake up in the morning with other parts of your anatomy even more awake, there are twice as many hands to help out. So, the morning is a good one. Made better by Adam’s willingness to stay in bed a little later than usual for more prolonged half asleep somewhat sticky cuddling. It drifts easily into a good afternoon, with a huge lunch of a soup that is really straddling the line between soup and stew, with thick bread and butter. Even Adam roping Ronan into helping with Latin vocab doesn’t damper the day. In fucking fact, nothing fucking dampens the day. It’s a good day. There’s food, and fucking about, and hands on hands on skin on cock, and plenty of laughing, and Adam hitches up a trailer to the tractor and Ronan drags him and opal all around the fields until the trailer wheels break off. Adam doesn’t go back to bed in Declan’s room, in fact, he fetches his shit from it instead and dumps it at the foot of Ronan’s bed and climbs in under the duvet before Ronan’s even finished brushing his teeth, meets Ronan at the pillows with his mouth. 

 

-

 

Sunday morning Ronan wakes up to Adam talking on his shitty brick phone, tugging jeans on while clamping the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

 

“Morning, babe,” Adam says once he hangs up and looks over to see Ronan watching him. “That was Boyd, he really needs me to go in today, I thought I’d drive in with you to church and then come back out here in the evening? I could bring my car, or you could pick me up-” 

 

“It’s a holiday,” Ronan says stiffly, “Boyd’s shouldn’t even be open, let alone calling  _ you _ into work.” 

 

“A mate of his has a car emergency,” Adam shrugs, “but Boyd’s out of town. He’s paying me double time, plus a bonus.” 

 

“His mate can’t fucking wait?” Ronan asks. Adam is doing his jeans button up now, squinting at Ronan. 

 

“He probably can,” Adam says, “but he doesn’t want to, and this is a great opportunity for me, Lynch. That money is gonna be fucking useful.” 

 

“I’ll pay you fucking quadruple time for you to stay here,” Ronan says, mostly joking. Not joking enough according to Adam’s scowl. 

 

“Don’t be a dick,” Adam snaps, “look, I don’t see what the problem is. We didn’t have any plans today, you were already gonna spend all morning and a bit in town anyway, and I’d be an idiot to pass up money like this.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan groans, “I’m a dick, like that’s news. I’ll fucking get ready for church then.” 

 

“Whatever,” Adam says, hooks his t-shirt off the back of Ronan’s desk chair, and leaves the room as he pulls it over his head. 

 

-

 

“You’ll come back this evening?” Ronan asks, car idling outside Boyd’s while Adam unbuckles and grabs his bag from the footwell. “I’ll pick you up.” 

 

“Whatever,” Adam replies, still irritated at Ronan, which is probably fair seeing as Ronan is also irritated at Adam and hadn’t bothered trying to patch shit up over breakfast. “I’ll text you when I get off.” 

 

He slams the car door. 

 

-

 

Church is long and generally uneventful. Lunch is fine. Ronan feels like a fucking ass. He goes to Monmouth to find Gansey - which is what he usually does after church, but usually Adam is already there - and also finds Henry and Blue. 

 

“Ha-hey Lynch!” Henry greets him in the parking lot - he’s hanging out of Monmouth’s upstairs window yelling down at Ronan locking his car. “Wasn’t expecting to see you! Why aren’t you at bonetown in your love shack?” 

 

“Pick one fucking location and stick with it, Cheng,” Ronan retorts loudly, amplifies it with his middle finger. 

 

When he gets upstairs, the door is already open for him, so he doesn’t get the pleasure of crashing it open, and Gansey greets him with a cup of coffee and a wry smile. 

 

“What Henry meant,” he says, “is that when Adam didn’t turn up we thought the both of you had elected to stay at the Barns and take advantage of the long weekend.” 

 

“Adam’s at work,” Ronan grunts, taking the coffee and wrapping his hands around it. 

 

“Boyd’s is supposed to be closed!” Blue protests from where she’s sprawled out on Gansey’s bed. 

 

There are some very clear signs that Ronan pulling up in the parking lot had obviously interrupted some fucking tryst. Gansey’s shirt buttoned up wrong, for example. Henry’s underwear which is poking out from under the bed, very obviously Henry’s because it has bright pink lettering on it. Blue is simply looking too innocent, which is a sign in itself that something is up. Ronan chooses to ignore this, decides to definitely not sit on the bed.

 

“It is,” he says, blows on the coffee, “there’s some fucking car emergency or something.” 

 

“I hope he’s being paid at least time and a half-” Gansey says, and Ronan scowls. 

 

“He  _ is _ ,” he says, wants to turn the attention off the fact that Adam is not here, says; “what were you guys up to?” 

 

“Nothing,” Blue says as Gansey says; “Homework,” as Henry says; “Making out.” 

 

“Right,” Ronan says, “cool.” He drops himself heavily down onto the couch. 

 

“I just said we were making out,” Henry says loudly, “you could at least have the decency to ask if you ought to come back some other time?” 

 

“I can see your fucking boner through your tight ass jeans, Cheng,” Ronan calls back, “I’m very purposefully avoiding decency to inconvenience you.” 

 

“What’re you doing looking at my dick, huh?” Henry snorts, draping himself a moment later over the back of the couch and Ronan’s shoulders, “Does Parrish know?” 

 

“Oh fuck off,” Ronan snaps, rolls his eyes but doesn’t shove Henry off. “I don’t have to be fucking staring to tell when some dude is trying to hide a stiffy.” 

 

“Well,” Blue says loudly from behind them, stands up accompanied by the noise of the bed springs, “I guess as SOMEONE wants to be a cock block, that’s  _ fine. _ ” She joins Henry at the back of the couch and slides over it until she’s half in Ronan’s lap. “Watch your coffee,” she tells him. 

 

“God,” Ronan groans, “watch your feet, maggot,” he retorts, holds the coffee up while she arranges herself comfortably across his lap. “You have two fucking boyfriends right the fuck here, why the hell are you on my lap?” 

 

Blue shrugs, reaches for Ronan’s coffee, takes it easily, and takes a large gulp before passing it back.

 

“Are you in a pissy mood simply because Adam’s not here?” Gansey asks, making his way around the couch to sit down on the side of Ronan with Blue’s feet. He pulls her feet into his lap. “Or is there some other explanation?” 

 

“I’m not in a pissy mood,” Ronan says, pissily and moodily. 

 

“Sure,” Henry says cheerfully, rests his chin on top of Ronan’s head. 

 

Why the fucking hell is his entire friend group annoying, touchy, assholes. 

 

“I wanted to talk to Gansey,” Ronan snaps, “but instead I get the three fuck-a-teers, instead, I think I’m allowed to be a bit pissed.” 

 

“That was the worst pun,” Henry tells him. 

 

“I think we should be more pissed seeing as your interrupted our fuck-a-teering,” Blue points out. 

 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Gansey asks. 

 

“Well I don’t,” Ronan retorts, “because I wanted to talk to you alone.” 

 

“Funny that,” Blue drawls, “Henry and I were hoping to have him alone too.” 

 

“So funny,” Henry chips in, “how plans change.” 

 

“Guys -” Gansey says. He isn’t immune. His cheeks are very pink, and he’s finally realised his shirt is buttoned up wrong, is fumbling with the buttons now. He is also obviously a little disappointed they had been interrupted. 

 

“Look,” Ronan snaps, “if you guys fuck off and get like… ice cream or some shit for half an hour or whatever, I’ll piss off and let you have him back to ravage for the rest of the fucking day.” 

 

“You paying for the ice cream?” Henry asks, despite the fact that he is certainly as, if not more, loaded as Ronan. 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan snaps, fumbles around between couch cushion and his own ass to grab his wallet, and shoves the whole thing at Blue. “You know my pin. Skedaddle.” 

 

“God,” Blue sighs, “so rude. I’m gonna buy the entire place.” 

 

“You do that,” Ronan snaps, “just fuck off and stop trying to give Gansey a fucking footjob over my fucking lap.” 

 

Blue pulls her legs back with a cackle. 

 

-

 

“Ok,” Gansey says once they’ve listened to Henry and Blue pull out of the lot, “what’s going on? Is this about Adam?” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps, a stupid reflex, sighs, “a bit,” he concedes. 

 

“Has something happened? You must be… quite upset to-” 

 

“I’m just in a shitty mood,” Ronan snaps, “and didn’t want to have to be around more people than necessary.” 

 

“Right,” Gansey says, “what can I do to help, then?” 

 

“God,” Ronan says. 

 

Gansey waits. He is not quite so good at waiting as Adam. He always looks like he’s about to start talking again. 

 

“Next year,” Ronan says, clears his throat, “you and your… fucking fuck buddies are gonna go roadtripping, yeah? And then what?” 

 

“Partners,” Gansey says firmly, then shrugs, “university? If I don’t my parents will be very disappointed.” 

 

“What about Blue?” Ronan pushes, “Where is she going? What does she want to do?” 

 

“A lot of stuff,” Gansey laughs, “you know what she wants to do, Ronan.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “what I mean is - will you guys go to the same university? You, Blue, Henry? Are you going to stay together? What if you all end up in different places - what if -” 

 

“Ronan,” Gansey says, “what? What are you asking?” 

 

“Have you guys talked about what happens next,” Ronan clarifies stiffly, “about you  _ guys _ . About what happens when it’s not easy.” 

 

“It’s never been easy,” Gansey says, “but yeah, we have.” 

 

“And?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Obviously we’re staying together,” Gansey says, “that’s the plan. I can’t say for certain we’ll always forever be together, but I know we will at the very least always be friends-” 

 

“So you have talked about it?” Ronan presses. 

 

“Yes,” Gansey says, “is this what this is about? Has Adam said something about next year that’s… worried you?” 

 

“No,” Ronan says, “he hasn’t said anything.” 

 

Gansey looks at him shrewdly.

 

“And it’s the nothing that’s worrying you,” he says. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan grumbles, “I just - Gans -” 

 

“Talk to him about it,” Gansey says firmly, “if you’re worried about it, ask him about it.” 

 

“How?” Ronan snaps, clears his throat loudly, drains his coffee mug. “How the fuck do you just casually bring that up? Oh hey mate, are we gonna break up when you go to uni?” 

 

“Maybe don’t start with ‘hey mate’,” Gansey suggests, “are it doesn’t have to be casual. You can make it a serious conversation. It’s obviously a serious topic.” 

 

“I hate serious conversations,” Ronan says, “not all of us like acting academic even in our personal relationships, Dick.” 

 

“Don’t be an ass,” Gansey sighs, “Christ. What do you want me to say, Ronan?” 

 

“I dunno,” Ronan admits, “tell me it’s gonna be fine.” 

 

“It is gonna be fine,” Gansey adamantly, “I don’t need to tell you that Ronan. You need to talk to Adam about it.” 

 

“Can I stay here?” Ronan asks. 

 

“I thought you kicked the other two out in he understanding that when they came back you’d be gone?” Gansey points out, not meanly. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan frowns, “they’d be pretty mad, huh.” 

 

“Maybe,” Gansey says, “we could ask.” 

 

“Do you want me to go?” Ronan asks then, “Stop cockblocking you?” 

 

“Only vaguely,” Gansey says, grins at Ronan’s grunt of annoyance, “you know you’re always welcome here.” 

 

-

 

Adam texts at four thirty. Ronan leaves Monmouth at five, tupperware containers of still warm savoury pies in the backseat. Once Henry and Blue returned and allowed Ronan to continue being a cock block, apparently their next need had been pies, so. They had all made pies. 

 

“Hey,” Adam says, drops his bag into the footwell and himself into the passenger seat. He smells strongly enough of grease and sweat that it covers the smell of fresh pie in the car. 

 

“Sorry,” Ronan says as a greeting. Adam sighs. 

 

“It’s fine,” he says, sounds exhausted, “let’s just go back to yours.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says. 

 

They drive the next ten minutes in silence, and then, the next twenty because Adam falls asleep against the window and Ronan slows down a little so as not to jostle him awake as they hit the less well kept country roads. 

 

Adam doesn’t wake up until Ronan’s got the pies out of the back seat and is opening Adam’s door so he can grab Adam’s bag as well. 

 

“Ugh,” Adam says, rubs his face and unbuckles himself while Ronan leans in over him to get his bag. 

 

“Come in and have a shower,” Ronan suggests, “I have pie for our dinner.” 

 

“Oh,” Adam yawns, stumbles out of the car, “that’s why I was dreaming about pies.” 

 

-

 

They walk shoulder to shoulder back up to the house, and Adam follows Ronan into the kitchen. Ronan puts the pies in the oven to keep the warm until he wanted to heat them up again, Adam gets a quick drink of water. Ronan carries Adam’s bag up to his room, Adam trails after. 

 

“Shower with me?” Adam asks, standing in the bedroom door behind Ronan. 

 

“Need your back washed?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Want you,” Adam replies plainly, meets Ronan’s eyes and holds the gaze until Ronan nods, then he turns and leaves for the bathroom. 

 

Ronan follows after, stopping in the hall to grab towels from the hall cupboard, to check in if Opal was upstairs somewhere. Adam is already stepping out of his jeans when he catches up with him, shirt hanging off the edge of the laundry basket. 

 

Adam turns the shower on, steps in while Ronan undresses himself. Is lathering himself up when Ronan opens the shower door again and steps in as well. 

 

“Tired?” Ronan asks, takes the bar of soap from Adam, turns him with one hand on his hip. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, rests his head against the wall of the shower. “Are you still upset?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says truthfully, gets water in his eye and blinks hard, “but it’s not your fault.” 

 

“I know,” Adam says, “do you wanna talk about it?” 

 

“Uh,” Ronan says, sighs, puts the soap in the dish and grabs the flannel instead to start scrubbing it down Adam’s back, “probably.” 

 

“It’s about the question, isn’t it?” Adam asks the shower wall, “The thing that’s been on your mind all weekend.” 

 

“I guess,” Ronan mumbles, brings the flannel round Adam’s hips to rub up over Adam’s stomach. He doesn’t see the point in denying that Adam is right that there had been a question plaguing him. Not when Adam already so obviously knows. Not when they’re already broaching the subject. 

 

“And it’s why you were pissed I wasn’t here today, yeah?” Adam asks, turns his head so he’s peering over his shoulder at Ronan. 

 

“I guess,” Ronan says again. 

 

“So,” Adam says, “I think I know - this is about us, yeah? About… uh… what’s next?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, wonders when the fuck he got so easily readable. 

 

“Well,” Adam says, turns his head away again, presses his forehead against the wall and exhales loudly, “um,” he says, “I know we’ve not been together long,” he says slowly, and honestly why the fuck are they having this conversation right here in the shower. Is this what Ronan gets for avoiding subjects? “But I’ve really liked… everything so far,” Adam continues, “and I know I want - of course we can  _ fuck _ , Lynch, like, if we take it slow or whatever, I’m totally down to fuck you, or for you to fuck me, or like… whatever, it’s all good.”

 

They’re both silent for a long moment. Ronan drops the flannel with an unenthusiastic splat on the shower floor. 

 

“Um,” Ronan says, “that wasn’t - huh - that’s not what I was thinking about.” 

 

“What?” Adam asks, he sounds a little horrified, “What?” he repeats, half turns around, and then slumps against the shower wall, “God,” he says, “I’m so sorry, shit.” 

 

Ronan laughs out loud, reaches for Adam’s shoulder to turn him around properly. 

 

“Honestly,” he says, aims for lightness, “obviously I want us to fuck, but like, not yet? I think I still need a bit of time for that.” 

 

“God,” Adam repeats, presses his face in wetly against Ronan’s shoulder, “God I’m an idiot.” 

 

“Yeah a bit, maybe,” Ronan agrees, “have you been thinking all weekend I’ve been working my way up to asking if we could fuck?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam exhales, “Christ. I thought that was why you were so mad. Like - I thought maybe you were planning on, I dunno, making your move today?” 

 

Ronan laughs again. This is all a lot funnier than it ought to be. 

 

“But, like,” Adam continues, “I’m super happy to wait until you’re ready,” he says, “I wanna fuck you and all, but - wow I’ve been reading these signals super wrong.” 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says, kisses Adam’s ear, digs his fingers in at Adam’s hips, “thanks for being happy to fucking wait though, I guess.” 

 

Adam groans grumpily at him, says; “Of course I’m fucking happy to wait.” 

 

Ronan kisses him again. 

 

“So,” Adam prompts, “now that I’ve embarrassed myself, will you tell me? What it is that’s driving you nuts?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “after we finish showering though, yeah?” 

 

Adam groans again, acquiesces. 

 

“Hey,” Ronan says, “can I blow you?” 

 

“Is this a blowjob to make me feel less like an idiot?” Adam asks. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, kisses him, “can I?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

-

 

They eat dinner first. Then they chase Opal around the barns. Then they wash some dishes. Then Adam sighs and grabs Ronan by the hand and all but drags him up to the bedroom. 

 

“Ok,” he says, “babe. Please.” 

 

“Is this a, babe please, take me now, babe please?” Ronan asks. 

 

“No,” Adam says, “this is a please tell me what the hell is up.” 

 

Ronan snorts, climbs onto his bed and lies down on his back. 

 

“Nowhere near as exciting,” he says to the ceiling. 

 

Adam climbs onto the bed after him, sits by his hip, rests his hand on Ronan’s stomach. 

 

“Next year,” Ronan says, “when you’re at university getting all fancy and acknowledged.” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says. 

 

“And I’m here getting all grubby and shit,” Ronan says. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Are we still going to be together?” 

 

“What?” Adam asks. 

 

“Like,” Ronan says loudly, “do we just have until you leave, and then we have to break up? How does this work? You’re leaving, which is fine, but when you leave, do you want us to be finished?” 

 

“What the actual fuck,” Adam says blankly, “no. Shit head. No I don’t. Do you?” 

 

“No,” Ronan snaps back, offended, and Adam rolls his eyes at him.

 

“Well then,” Adam says, “obviously we’re staying together then. Why the hell would you even think we wouldn’t be?” 

 

“Because we hadn’t said we were,” Ronan grunts, “and it’s not like - it’s not like you’re just gonna be like half an hour away. It’s gonna be a fucking long distance relationship. It kind of feels like the sort of shit we’re supposed to talk about.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “so. What do you want to talk about, about it?” 

 

“Ugh,” Ronan says, “mostly just - mostly that you we’ll still be a… we. And how we’re gonna make that work. I guess.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says again, shifts down onto his hands and knees, and then onto his side so he can wrap his arm over Ronan’s waist, his leg over his knees. “We’re still gonna be us. We’ll just have to use our phones more. And I’ll come visit when I can, and you can come visit when you can. I’ll talk about you to everyone I meet. We’ll make it work.” 

 

“You’ve thought about this?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Yes,” Adam says, “of course.” 

 

“You never brought it up,” Ronan says. 

 

“Well,” Adam sighs, “I didn’t think I needed to. I’m sorry, Ro. I should have.” 

 

“We’re gonna be fine?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says firmly, then, “this was why you were upset today?” 

 

“God,” Ronan groans, “I guess.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because,” Ronan says, “because. Because I’m...scared of losing you. It felt too much like a dumbass metaphor than you were leaving early.” 

 

“How about this dumbass metaphor,” Adam suggests, “I might leave, but I’m always coming back.” 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan says, “that’s a bit on the nose.” 

 

“It’s true,” Adam says firmly, “you know I love you.” 

 

“Christ,” Ronan says again, softer, “yeah,” he says, “yeah.” 

 

“So?” Adam asks. 

 

“So what?” Ronan says. 

 

“That’s what this has all been about? Nothing else? Do we need to talk about anything else now we’re in talking about shit mode?” 

 

“Nah,” Ronan says, “nah. I’m good. I’m talked out.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says easily, “cool.” 

 

“I love you,” Ronan says, “and I still find it really funny the first thing you thought I wanted to talk about was fucking.” 

 

“Oh fuck you,” Adam groans, “shut the hell up.” 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you like my writing feel free to come yell at me on my Tumblr etoilearden.tumblr.com


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